Twisted Kind Of Beautiful
by Dancing On Starlight's Melody
Summary: The streetlamp gave off an crude, harsh light; pooling into streams of blazing yellow. His gaze never left it. It was like a stream of hope, and as his hand reached out, hesitantly, a dark shadow formed instantly around his outstretched fingers. It was beautiful thing, in such a twisted way.


**This is a flash-fic, written for ImagineClan's one year anniversary countdown. It's also my first PJO fic, and I would really appreciate some feedback! :D **

**Please, read, relax, and enjoy this short excerpt. **

**~Spire~**

* * *

The night glistened frostily with glimmering stars, forming faint silver outlines of constellations. The royal dark blue of the sky was an endless sea, stretching farther than far and wider than wide.

A silhouette of a boy, no older than sixteen, was seen against the harsh yellow light of a lamp. Wisps of gray smoke fluttered from factories and cars rumbled noisily.

The boy's eyes - a shade of dark, chocolate brown - held no warmth, no trace of happiness. They were dark, sunken pits of sorrow, regret, and self-hatred. They had more depth and sadness  
than the regular person. Traces of memories flickered and came. The sound of his footsteps, gently against the road, was melted into the buzzing of the pedestrians, and rising chatter as each person made their own way.

There was something that made him stand out. Maybe it was his dark clothing, hunched position; that brought him out from the brightly clothed people milling, or when he looked up, the madness and the hard shell of no emotion that he chose to hide in.

He was not in a hurry, unlike any of the other citizens, but he was determined to get somewhere, for the lively drone of cars and hum of speaking faded slowly.

The stars shone brighter, like a diamond that caught the light. The paved roads cleared to grassland, cold and soft under him. The only light now was the moon's silvery glow, casting soft shadows of the occasional tree.

Finally, he stopped.

And he stood there, silently, his eyes never leaving the sky, a million thoughts running through his mind at all the same time.

It was beautiful.

A _twisted kind of beautiful. _

The city was not far behind him, the bulidings cutting through the clear night, smoke drifting upwards, streetlights glowing and giving off a crude, unnatural light. Neon colors blazed to life on billboards. There was never a single moment of silence.

Slowly, he raised his knife; three feet of polished iron, wicked sharp, gleaming in the moonlit night. Reflected inside was the pitiful wails of the monsters he had stabbed, slashed, killed with the blade.

The rain started. With a soft, pleasant drizzle at first, then turning into a loud, pattering storm. Thunder rumbled distantly, Water streamed down the boy's face, raindrops soaking his clothes, inside and out. Coldness seeped into his body, but he was used to it. Being dissed, waved aside, put away like nothing.

The stars kept shining, glowing defiantly.

The boy gritted his teeth and brought the knife to his throat, the cold metal touching ever so slightly against his pale skin, and a shudder ran down his back.

A moment passed, just standing in the moonlit rain.

He couldn't part with the world. The night once again reminded him of who he was. He had never seen anything so beautiful, in such a crude way. The night sky, the glimmering stars, and the city. And inside, he knew that it was his fault. There were people out there who appreciated him, but he wouldn't let himself to know it.

Hands trembling, he raised the knife again. But this time he did not put it to his neck. He picked it up by the blade, and his entire body shaking, he threw it hard. He put all his anger and burning hatred and that heated lump of confused emotions into that knife and flung as hard as he could. It sailed across the meadow, and a heavy burden was lifted. It felt like he was surrendering, letting go.

But there was one more thing, even harder for him to muster. He swallowed and tried, but the words caught in his throat. The rain came down consistently, and his voice was lost in the whipping wind, barely audible, hardly a whisper.

"Thank you, Percy Jackson."

* * *

**So, I guess you know who the is boy now? ;3 Reviews are greatly appreciated. **

**~Spire~  
~Morningpaw of ImagineClan~**


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